


Queen of Spades

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never really had much more than flirting before, but when Ariadne is left bloody and beaten on his doorstep, Eames can't let that go unpunished.</p><p>For the inception_kink prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/11005.html?thread=22714621#t22714621">Eames finds Ariadne bruised and bloody on his doorstep. He takes care of her and then goes BAMF in revenge.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of Spades

Eames was having trouble keeping his temper, but it had nothing to do with Ariadne. Well, it sort of did, but his anger wasn't directed at her. It was directed at the bastards that had beaten her to a bloody pulp and left her on the doorstep to his flat as a warning.

Ariadne awoke as he was unbuttoning her blouse, and she started thrashing and shouting. She landed several good punches at Eames' head; he had no illusions about her ability to fight, and it was probably why she was beaten so badly. "It's me," he said, catching her fists in his hands. "It's Eames. You were left on my doorstep."

Ariadne stopped swinging and tried to crack her eyes open. It was obviously painful, but she managed to see a blurry image of his concerned face. "Is this real?"

"Afraid so, darling," he murmured. "I ran a bath, if you can manage."

Breath hitching slightly, she shook her head. "I can't see anything," she admitted. Speaking obviously hurt, and Eames pulled off her blouse gently. There were thick finger-shaped bruises around her throat and large splotches along her torso.

"Who did this, Ariadne?" he asked quietly, watching her wrap her bruised arms around herself. "Did you know who it was?"

She shook her head. "Only name I heard was Tomas."

Eames' jaw set, and he was glad she couldn't see his expression. It had terrified lesser players in the field. "C'mon, Ariadne. Let's get you soaking, see if that helps you feel better."

"You just want me outta my pants," she teased, voice rough and pained. Her lip cracked again, and blood seeped from beneath the scab.

"Ah, me. You know me so well," he said, answering the teasing tone even if he didn't feel up to it. His hands dropped to her waist so he could undo her trousers. "Did they... Was it just a beating?" he asked after clearing his voice.

"They told Tomas not to," Ariadne rasped. She grasped his hand in hers and tilted her body toward his, guessing where he must be by the sound of his voice. She shifted position, allowing him to strip her to her underwear. "That's why I know his name. I don't know the others. Five total, one just watched."

"C'mon, darling," he said, running his hand along the curve of her spine. "I'll carry you. You've never been to my flat before."

"Where are we?" she rasped as he picked her up. She was a tiny thing, and Eames thought she barely weighed anything.

He was going to kill them all.

"Still in Paris, actually. I have a flat near the Aviation Club de Paris. Ever been there?" She shook her head before tucking it against his chest. "Ah, well. I'll take you around sometime when you feel up to it. I have a membership, of course."

She laughed, just as he had hoped, and he gently laid her into the tub. She let out a sigh as she felt the water slide up to her chin, though she held onto his hand tightly. "Don't leave."

"Ariadne..."

"Please."

Sighing, Eames settled down on the floor next to her, her tiny hand caught up in his. At least no bones were broken. And they hadn't raped her. "This isn't how I pictured you in my flat, I'll have you know. I pictured satin sheets and strawberries and champagne. Terribly romantic."

Her lip cracked again as she tried to smile. It had to hurt like hell, and Eames winced at the sight of it. "Sounds good. Should try it sometime."

He brought her hand to his lips, repeating the gallant kiss he had given her three days ago. "The one that didn't hit you. He was probably the leader." She nodded, eyes closed as she soaked in the warm water. "Tall, skinny guy? Young looking, dark hair, maybe a goatee?"

"That's him."

"Nobody called him Victor?" Ariadne shook her head. "Hang on. I need to get a washcloth. I need to let go of you for a minute."

"Talk to me?" she asked as he let go over hand. "They never talked, just hit. Just said it was a lesson for you."

Eames' breath caught in his chest. "Not a very pleasant lesson, then," he said slowly. He grasped the washcloth from his linen cabinet beside the bathroom, hand balling into a fist. "I'm very sorry, Ariadne. I never wanted this to happen. I _never_ would have put you in danger."

"I know," she said softly as he returned to her side. "I don't blame you," she murmured as he stroked her face gently with the cloth.

"You should."

"They're the cowards," Ariadne said, leaning into his touch. "They couldn't face the one they hated."

"Definitely sounds like Victor."

"Who's he?"

"I did a job for him recently. Or, if you want to be really accurate, I was paid quite handsomely _not_ to do the job for him, and to make him the subject."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Not a particularly high point in my career, if you must know." Eames paused as he brought the washcloth to her neck. "I should probably go. Or let you do this."

"Don't go," Ariadne said, closing her hand over his.

"I'm trying to be noble, Ariadne." He blew out a breath. "God knows, I really don't have a lot of experience being noble, but I'm _trying."_

Her smile was painful to look at, knowing how much it had to hurt her to do it. "I know. I wish I could see your expression right now."

"Ariadne..."

"I thought you liked blondes. Or curvy girls. You know, because of those jokes you used to make back at the warehouse. I'm nothing like that."

"You're better," he admitted quietly. He took in her amazed expression as she turned her face to him, and he leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. "I'm sorry I dragged you through this, Ariadne. I promise, I'll make it up to you somehow."

Ariadne moved her hands so that they cupped his face gently. She maneuvered as best as she could to kiss his lips gently. "I know you will."

***

It was easy enough to find Victor. He wasn't exactly hiding, and felt secure in his own home. He thought he had put out the message that he wasn't to be fucked with, but all he had really done was make Eames seriously angry.

Eames kicked open the front door and shot the first man he saw right between the eyes. He walked into the open area, where Victor and his cronies were playing cards. By the paraphernalia on the table, they were high on cocaine and were apparently betting time with particular whores that Victor liked to purchase. They were all standing, reaching for guns in their jackets. Eames' entrance hadn't been particularly quiet, after all.

"I got your message, Victor," Eames said, his grin appearing lethal and sharklike. "Here's my reply."

He shot Victor in the gut and ducked out of the way when the cronies began firing. It wouldn't do to get himself blown to bits; he had told Ariadne he had to do a few errands and pick up some groceries. Getting shot would seriously put a damper on those activities.

"Bloody fucking hell, Eames!" Victor shouted. "You shot me!"

Eames shot blindly around the corner of a wall. "Yeah, well, you did get my attention, you sodding wanker!"

"What did you think would happen for double crossing me?" Victor shouted. His voice was closer than before.

Eames rolled across the hallway. He could see more of the sitting room now, and he shot at two of the cronies immediately. Victor let out a startled curse as they fell, bleeding heavily. Eames could see him, but couldn't get a clear shot. "You know what kind of business you're in, Victor."

"So do you!"

As Victor darted across the sitting room, Eames let out another series of shots. They missed, but they were more to unsettle Victor than to really harm him. Eames was interested in making Victor sweat first. He switched cartridges and advanced toward the sitting room, finger poised over the trigger. All he could think about was Ariadne's swollen eyes and her cracked lips. She tried to limit how much she grimaced, but he could tell she was in pain. Ibuprofen would only go so far for that kind of thing.

Victor was going to pay for that. The smears of blood across the floor from his gut wound weren't enough.

"Where's Tomas?" Eames called out as he advanced. He didn't spare a glance for the two cronies he had shot already. They were staying put on the floor, quietly bleeding out.

It was a bulky man with dark hair and beady eyes that stepped out as Eames rounded a corner. He hit Eames in the jaw with his gun, Eames' head snapping back sharply. Eames reflexively squeezed the trigger, hitting the man directly in the center of his chest. He staggered back in surprise, and Eames gingerly touched the side of his jaw with his left hand. It had been a pretty nasty hit, and he would likely turn as purple as Ariadne. "I take it you're Tomas?"

He narrowed his eyes at Eames. "I should've fucked your girl anyway," he said, eyes glittering. He brought up his gun, but Eames was faster.

He shot Tomas at least five more times in the chest, jaw clenched tight. He stepped deliberately onto Tomas' gun hand and picked it up as Tomas cried out. "This is the kinder way I'm killing you, arsehole. If you had raped Ariadne, I'd've cut you up and left you in a field to die slowly."

Eames continued through the house. They hadn't expected something like this, especially not after they had beaten Ariadne. Victor had always been an idiot that way. He had never really understood how other people worked. He bought his help, and he saw people as tools to be used. It might have been helpful in peddling drugs and girls, but it really made for a limited supply of faithful bodyguards when there was someone clearly gunning for him that didn't mind taking others out along the way.

He caught hold of someone by the back of his neck, lifting him bodily out of his hiding place. "Hullo. You're going to take me to Victor's hiding place, and perhaps I won't kill you." The man was as skinny as Victor, clearly strung out of his mind. He nodded repeatedly, gibbering syllables falling from his lips. "Lead the way," Eames said coldly, pushing his gun into the center of the man's back. "Safety's off and there's a bullet chambered. Don't be more stupid than you can help."

They went down into the basement, the skinny man leading the way. He promptly was shot as soon as he cleared the stairs, and Eames was very thankful he hadn't gone down there alone. Victor's muted "Fuck" made him smile grimly. He honestly hadn't intended to do that, and it was one less idiot for Eames to deal with.

He could wait. Victor was twitchy, maybe coming down off the cocaine. Victor would make a mistake.

There was a crashing noise upstairs that sounded like someone flailing. Eames hoped it was Tomas in death throes. The sound made Victor even more twitchy, and he shot off another bullet into the wall. He cursed under his breath, and there was a slight rattling sound in his chest. Eames crept further down the stairs, slowly and carefully so as not to make a sound. He could hear the telltale rasp of metal on metal that sounded like Victor exchanging cartridges for his gun. Immediately, Eames flung himself around the corner into the basement, shooting. He caught Victor in the shoulder, spinning him around enough to make him drop his gun. There was one crony with him, who shot at Eames. The bullet caught him across the leg as he moved, and that would be a hard one to cover up with Ariadne. Dammit. He didn't want her worrying about him.

Lips compressed into a tight line, Eames shot him in the head and turned his gun to Victor. "You owe me an apology, you bleeding wanker."

Victor held his hands up as best as he could manage. He'd lost a lot of blood and he couldn't really manipulate his shot shoulder. "Eames. Really. It's just bloody business."

"Bloody is right, Victor," Eames replied, eyes narrowed. "But don't worry. You're never going to fuck with me again."

He shot Victor right between the eyes, then headed home without another glance at the house.

***

"Sorry about what happened."

Ariadne snorted. "If you apologize one more time, I'm going to smack you."

She had been in his flat for three days. Her hoarse voice had convinced the office she was sick with the flu, which explained her sudden need to take a few sick days from work. Her lips had healed first and most of the swelling in her face was gone by now. The bruises were fading, but she still had a faint bluish cast to most of her skin. He'd checked multiple times just to be sure, which had amused Ariadne to no end. "This is just an excuse to get me naked," she'd scoffed, but she had still taken off her shirt for him to examine the bruises as she healed. Eames had managed to rein in his impulses to leer at her or make lewd comments, which really should have shown her how much she mattered to him. He wouldn't have tried at all with anyone else.

"If I had just taken care of Victor before I took on that job in Istanbul..." Eames began, shaking his head. "I should have known someone was following me when I invited you to dinner. I'm better than that, I should have spotted those assholes. I shouldn't have put you in danger like that."

Ariadne pressed her fingers against his lips and sidled closer to him. "I know what the risks are, Eames. I know you're not an angel."

He sighed and grasped her hand, moving it to press a kiss to her palm. He ran his fingers against the back of her hand, mimicking his touch from that fateful dinner right before she had been kidnapped. "Sometimes I think I should leave you alone, let you find some normal tosser to live with, have an ordinary life, all that rot."

"And at other times?" she prompted when he fell silent.

"I want to pin you down to my bed and keep you there," he admitted with a rakish grin. He laughed when she swatted his shoulder. "What? You wouldn't get hurt if I kept you chained to my bed."

"I should have known you'd be kinky."

They laughed, and Eames let his fingers slide across the sensitive skin on her wrist. "Ariadne," he began, not sure what he was going to say. He wanted her and he wanted her safe. That didn't have to be mutually exclusive things, but this recent reminder about the dangers inherent in his profession was too strong to ignore.

Ariadne leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth, taking his bottom lip between hers. "I know what I'm doing, Eames," she murmured, letting her hands rest gently on his shoulders. "I'm no damsel in distress. They just caught me off guard, okay? It's not your responsibility to lock me up to keep me safe."

"What if I want it to be?"

She smiled gently at the heartfelt words. "Should I kick your ass to prove I can take care of myself?"

He allowed a hint of a leer at her question. "You can do other things to prove it, Ariadne."

She pushed him down onto his back and held his wrists down over his head as she straddled his waist. "Maybe I will," she said, her voice a little husky. She grinned at his obvious arousal where her hips were pressed to his. "But not today."

"Tease," he complained as she got up.

"If I'm going to be in your bed," Ariadne began with a smile, "the only bruises I want are the ones you put there. And I definitely don't want it to be out of guilt."

Eames got up and pulled her against him. "Oh, guilt certainly isn't what I feel around you."

"Good," she said brightly. "Now that I'm a little more presentable, I plan to return home. I'm sure it's a mess and I'll need to clean up. I have sick days through the end of the week, so I'll be perfectly safe. How does that sound?"

He heaved a playful sigh. "If I must endure days without you. There are much more enjoyable ways to spend our time together."

"Oh, I'm sure. But you're going to have to work for it," she teased.

Eames thought of the mess he had left behind in Victor's house, but didn't think that's what she meant. "Candy and flowers and that sort of thing, you mean?"

"Well, I'm sure you'll think of something that suits us better."

Us. He really liked that word.

Eames merely grinned at her smiling face. "Yeah, I'll think of something." He kissed her, slowly and tenderly. Courting Ariadne was definitely going to be a merry chase.

 

The End


End file.
